An Elysium to Subsist
by Sayloni
Summary: Forthrightly, he might never have found the notion of having an Elysium any closer to him, but after years and years of uncertainties, umbrage and utter loneliness, Nico decided one thing; if he ever did have an Elysium, it'd be one without Percy Jackson.


Author's Note:

Hello there again.

It's miraculous where Sayloni can pop up anytime.

Okay, so a confession... Sayloni is a complete bookworm when it comes to novels; japanese or otherwise.

She finished reading the 'House of Hades' almost two months back, and every word is still as fresh as ever in her mind. It was one of the best reads of Rick Riordan that she has ever laid an eye on. It wasn't just Greek Mythology and Modern Tech extravaganza, but the new twists and tales were worth waiting for the long, long year.

Damn. She just realized she'll have to wait another twelve months for its conclusion. This is going to be one hell of a wait...

Anyway. Moving on.

If anybody out there is still to do the godly job of reading it, do rush things about and make time for settling down with the book in a warm bed with a cup of hot cocoa (Sayloni has heard that's what kids do in the west. No idea about the adults though (~_~)/ ). Not only would it be stimulating to the Neuron-network, but the following fanfic wouldn't sound as absurd as it does to my younger sister.

This, therefore, is a little something that popped up into Sayloni's cerebrum while reading the book for the third time. She is a little crazy that way, she knows.

Warning :

This fic contains boy x boy, not explicit, but she won't advice people with no taste in this genre, or those who have probably never heard about it to go on reading. And, oh! Characters might appear a tad bit OOC, but she'll definitely try to work on them.

Disclaimer :

Sayloni is no Rick Riordan, that is to politely say she doesn't own the 'Percy Jackson and the Olympians' and the 'Heroes of Olympus' series. Also, the characters mentioned in the story below are His Highness's property exclusively. Although there is this blonde guy that was sculpted to satisfy Sayloni's sick mind there somewhere...

So with that obligation out of the way, kindly read on!

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Someone once asked him what his Elysium was.

Such a morbid query.

Nico hadn't answered though. He had ignored the inquest, listless, opting instead to stare at the new skull ring he'd taken a fancy to wearing.

Elysium... even if he had one, how would it be?

Not that he had any problem with the Oracle of Delphi, but the woman was too inquisitive, too perceptive.

Too considerate.

Almost as if at times, she could see right through him.

Rachel reminded him of _her_.

The sister who had abandoned him to join a random faction of girls with sparkly bows and arrows, who'd donned on the responsibility of a loving parent, of indulging him, of caring for him, and then shrugged it off just as spontaneously because she'd acquired far too much a twelve year old could handle.

He was supposed to be angry at her, not _him_.

She forsook him.

...If he had an Elysium, will it be one of umbrage?

"I'm afraid I've never been there since I'm very much alive," he'd answered her after a long stretch of empty silence, "and probably, I'm not of value to the place either."

The sound of her chuckle had been like a thousand tinkling bells.

However beautiful and morose it made the fire appear from this distance, however mesmerizing it made the surrounding forest seem, for some reason, it made his stomach churn like the most menacing of oceans. Like the pit of Tartarus itself was tearing open the inside of his soul.

She was taunting him.

A son of Hades.

"Value... it makes us do stupid things, doesn't it?" Her eyes, the strange shade of a colour he couldn't decide, had danced in the firelight. "I would like to see it though."

Nico had raised an eyebrow. "Your Elysium?"

If only for a moment, the feeling of regret and bitterness that lurked behind her cheery countenance resurfaced. She stared at the distant horizon quietly, and Nico knew it wasn't because of some ancient symbols or images that swam in her head from time to time. If anything, the emotion was one he could commiserate with.

Holding grudges that were never meant to be...

He was like that too, wasn't he?

He supposed they were on the same bridge, then, though on different sides.

An alluring smile had greeted him at long last. "I already am in mine," the Oracle had replied simply, shaking her head, as if she couldn't be any more content than she was in the warm glow of the campfire with the mindless chatter of campers and centaurs alike in the backdrop. "It's your Elysium that interests me."

Young and impressionable, detesting people who didn't deserve his hatred...

...If he had an Elysium, will it be one of salvation?

He still remembers the day that freak Dr. Thorn had turned into a Manticore. He'd been young, he'd been naive. And yes, he'd been afraid.

He didn't understand a thing back then.

However, the moment the son of Poseidon had stepped in, that celestial bronze weapon drawn, so stupid, yet so powerful, his fear had evaporated.

For once, he was in awe.

_He_ was a true hero. How strong _he_'d seemed with those rich green eyes, how willing he'd been to jump off that cliff for the girl he _loved_... Nico would gaze at the night sky, watching the constellation of stars he'd engraved in his memory as it continuously played at the back of his mind.

_His_ furrowed brows trying to soothe the siblings out of anxiety...

But, if he were to think about it, the guy hadn't done anything special back then, had _he_?

_He_ had let Bianca die.

In fact, _he_ had been dragging Nico down ever since they met.

_He_ hadn't been a hero at all.

And yet, that ten year old boy with his brainless deck of Mythomagic cards had found his own causes to loathe _him_ with a passion as scorching as an ember, while in chorus adoring _him_ with the serenity of a dead sea.

If anything, it was hypocrisy of the dimmest level.

Did his Father feel something similar every time his siblings discounted him like he wasn't even an Olympian?

...No wonder he seemed a little demented.

"I'll let you visit it sometime," he'd said, brushing himself off, "If I have one."

"_When_ you have one."

His boots had seemed to ward off an impossible echo in the ambience of the saline, electric air as he walked away from her lifeless form. Vaguely, he heard the cheers of cajoling campers float from the canoe lake, but just the trickling of _his_ laughter was enough to make Nico disappear into the shadows of those hours of darkness.

...If he had an Elysium, will it be one of hope?

He had no reason to muse.

Months later, when his internal hurricane of mayhem had finally begun to subside and he'd pushed those unwanted feelings to the deepest core, to the Tartarus of his heart, he was asked something similar again.

To say he was shocked would've been belittling matters.

He'd been sitting on the roof of the Temple to Pluto, watching all the Romans hurrying around in a mismatched attire of togas, battle Armour and casual jeans. The half-sister he'd brought back to life from the Fields of Asphodel tinkered with a diamond at his side.

"Where is your Elysium, Nico?" Hazel had suddenly wondered aloud.

It hit him like a bucket of ice water.

Much had happened in such a short time. The despicable son of the Sea God had mysteriously vanished, setting off scouts in every direction of the world as search parties. The satyrs, the centaurs and every other half-blood or human associated to the Camp was going insane over the missing boy, which he found quite enviable. And when Nico heard about Jason Grace being discovered at the Grand Canyon, he had a feeling something rather unpleasant was coming.

Titans and Giants and Gaia.

Then the Greeks and the Romans...

A life filled with so many obscurities and impending disasters that he'd have to bring in even his toes for counting.

...If he had an Elysium, will it be someplace liberated of unknown?

"What are you talking about?" He had sighed, shaking his head like a clueless big brother, "Elysium is where the spirits of Heroes and such rest. It is no place for either of us as of now. Of all people, being a daughter of Pluto yourself, you should - "

Much to his chagrin, she'd cut him off with a rude wave of her hand.

"Not _that_ one."

And when the girl had appeared with _him_, Nico was beyond astounded.

Those mangled feelings; the ones he'd worked so hard to suppress for all those years seeing _him_ grow happy with someone else, seeing _him_ being grieved upon by that someone else...

His hastily constructed damn had given way under intense pressure of the ocean currents.

He took a deep breath. "You talk strangely. Don't ask about things that can't exist," he replied, trying to make her lose her way.

"I'm not prying or anything."

It was a pang of guilt directly to his conscience.

He knew what doubting others felt like. He'd had his experience with a lot of such instances, especially _him_. He never believed a word of what came out of _his_ heroic mouth, and conversely, _he_ kept staring at Nico as if _he_ might be stabbed in the back any minute.

He knew what it was like to be distrusted too.

It was never pleasant.

...If he had an Elysium, will it be someplace liberated of qualms?

He'd considered, trying to look genuinely concerned. Finally, he'd settled on going about his usual way. "You're too meddlesome, I know. Sometimes, it's hard to believe we get along well."

"Hard to believe we are siblings," she'd corrected.

"That's not what I said."

"I know," she'd shrugged like it was no big deal, "Must be because we were born in different periods."

"We're not that many years apart," he pointed out.

She nodded, promptly falling silent. Her frizzy hair had stood out in odd directions, bobbing slightly with every move of her heaving chest. Seeing a quiet Hazel was not unusual, but the way she had acted was alarming enough to him.

"Do you think we'd be able to understand them much better, that we'd be accepted if there wasn't this generation gap between us?" She'd asked after what seemed like an eternity, "And vice-versa?"

...If he had an Elysium, will it be someplace liberated of crevices?

He had pondered upon the notion for so long that the girl was yawning. His long white fingers played with his skull ring, twisting it around in aggravation because Hazel demanded truth, and she was the one person he could not bear manipulating.

...other than Bianca.

Finally, he exhaled and took one of her hands in his paler one. "It doesn't really matter, does it? You have pretty okay friends who care a lot about you regardless of your 30's mindset. Things such as generation gaps are little to think over."

The slumping of her frail shoulders lightened.

"You sound so sure."

"I _am_ sure," he'd smiled, perhaps genuinely in a long, long while, "I know because _this_ is your Elysium, dear sister."

And they'd had no reason to continue.

He'd escaped then, to the land of the dead, the only place where he was accepted, be it due to fear or whatever. He'd said it was for locating the Doors of Death, yet that couldn't be far from the truth. That was one of the reasons, yes, but those sea green eyes accusing him every moment hadn't left him any other alternative.

Later, he realized just how immature he still remained when it came to decisions.

The place had been atrocious. The air was liquid sulphur, dark, and even with his emergency stash of food and ambrosia, his body had only just sustained. It felt like those vile creatures were reforming on the flesh of Tartarus himself, coming to life and then destroying everything in the path to their way in the mortal world. The horror would make him wrench every time he breathed.

Horrid wasn't enough of a word to describe the experience.

He had been driven over the edge. At one point, he'd sincerely believed that killing himself was something even better than Elysium itself.

Yet, getting captured hadn't been his idea of pleasure.

He'd survived in some kind of a vessel, though, even if just barely, he didn't know which or what exactly, and for once in his life he had been delighted of his Father's dreadful wife.

Then _he_ was there.

There, on the Argo II, with Hazel, Frank and Jason and two other demigods he couldn't place anywhere. _He_ was there, gazing at his lithe frame with that vile sea green of _his_ eyes, staring at him with a bared soul, perhaps offended, perhaps repulsed, perhaps utterly disappointed.

Perhaps concerned.

But no Annabeth.

She hadn't been there, and the son of Poseidon had been so misplaced without her that _he_ hadn't even taken the pain of demanding to Nico why he'd never said anything, why he'd pretended not to know the guy, why he hadn't stepped ahead to help the lost hero find _his_ way back to where _he_ belonged.

Where _he_ belonged with _her_.

_He_ had barely looked at him.

Even so, the crisis hadn't been prominent until after _he_ and that daughter of Athena had plunged into Tartarus.

If Jason had been more of a Praetor, perhaps he would've known and gotten them out of there in time. If that son of the War God had had even a fickle remain of sense, he'd have turned into a bird or suchlike and swooped down to catch them. If that Aphrodite girl hadn't been smitten with Grace, she would've used her charm-speak to keep them from falling.

Keep _him _from falling.

But what could they have done if he himself couldn't?

Son of Hades, Ghost King, Ambassador of Pluto, what were they but mere terms if he couldn't even save the one he so deeply felt for?

His promise was nowhere redemption, either.

So when the Praetor of the Roman Camp had sat down beside him, her glassy eyes tracing the bulk of humanity beneath them as the satyr yelled a few obscenities at birds that flew overhead, he'd been sinisterly surprised.

"Di Angelo, how would your Elysium be?"

Nico had blinked in response. "Not you too," he'd muttered a few moments later, shaking his head.

"Impractical question, I know."

"Do you ask that to everyone?"

She'd been taken aback. "It's a Greek concept," she'd answered simply after a moment of contemplation.

He'd alleged they'd survive, that as long as Annabeth was there by his side, the guy was easily the most fearsome of demigods. He'd said that they would meet them at the other side of the Doors, just like _he_ had mad him promise.

But in truth, he couldn't bring himself to believe it.

He'd been through Tartarus, he'd seen those abominations in their true form, and if a son of Hades, if the Ghost King himself couldn't keep his sanity back down there, then where did that leave a measly ocean boy?

_He_ didn't know anything.

...If he had an Elysium, will it be one devoid of inconsistencies?

"It's just strange that you of all people would talk so artsy," he'd replied with a slight smile.

"And it's strange that you of all people would bother answering, if at all."

That was true, though.

Why he ran away from people, he didn't know.

It was a sense of loss, a feeling of being out of place, of not belonging and not being welcomed that must have made him bitter.

Or so he wanted to believe.

"Don't worry, I won't."

She'd shrugged, her dark hair falling into those bottomless eyes with the action. "Suit yourself," she'd said and dropped the matter altogether.

Even in that melancholy, she was beautiful.

Her, the Dare girl, the daughter of Athena... they exhibited a beauty that couldn't help but allure dense boys, couldn't help but allure _him_.

But it wasn't Nico's fault that he smelled like death, was it?

"Something Hazel asked you?" He inquired, more out of obligation.

She kept staring at a golden-haired boy in the sea of mortals, who he thought looked similar to someone back at the Argo II. Her face was blank, something he had learned happened mechanically whenever her emotions clashed. Her dark eyes though, they said a million things he couldn't ignore.

He'd had that face once too, hadn't he?

The same hollow expression...

He was still the same, though, only intensified. He might have left holding grudges behind; he might have accepted some people as his friends, but falling into that hideous place had shattered something inside of him that even he couldn't figure out.

Reyna... she must have gone through something similar, then.

Though what happened to her was another mystery, one that he was sure to never find the root of. She'd never let him know, just as he'd never let her in.

They were too alike.

Yet poles apart at the same time.

...If he had an Elysium, will it enclose a bridge?

A link with the others; other gods, other demigods, other humans.

A link with _him_.

"No, not really," she'd murmured back, something that Nico couldn't be sure of at first. Her eyes were distant. She looked young, but the woman in her seemed a far older one by years. "You've seen Tartarus. I merely assumed Elysium would be a heaven for you."

"For a Hero, yes."

"And not you?"

He had closed his eyes and chosen not to answer. Reyna didn't seem to require one, either, for she didn't press matters and accepted it without a flinch.

Just like he would have done.

Perhaps his Elysium will be similar to hers?

And if Percy had died, perhaps _hi_s would've been an entirely different one.

Yet in the end, it refused to exist.

The guy was alive, skinny and with a broken soul, yes, but alive, and so was the love of _his_ life that _he_'d jumped into Tartarus so bravely for. Charred and scarred and marred beyond belief, but they'd been there holding the other's hands.

And they'd been happy to see that the other had made it.

An Elysium... could such a thing even exist for Nico?

For once, he didn't know whether to beam or weep. It wasn't that he didn't feel relief, or that he'd been angry and confused why the son of Poseidon would shatter his dream of an unproblematic life by showing up alive, but Nico had been just so lost...

...If he had an Elysium, will it be one free of chaos?

"I'm not a Hero," he'd sighed in acquiescence at long last.

"Misconceptions... they are dangerous things, I've heard," she'd commented, off-handed and profound at the same time, "But you'll conquer them one day."

The satyr swung his baseball bat in the air, creating 'whoosh-whoosh' sounds.

"And you'll conquer yours?"

She turned to look at him with that piercing gaze, perhaps the first ever time they'd been in this close proximity since him being forenamed as the Ambassador of Pluto. "Perhaps," she'd answered, going back to sightseeing.

Something he would have said had she been the one prying.

So alike, yet so unlike...

"How would your Elysium be, then, Praetor?"

This time, her eyes didn't move. She stared below, and Nico noticed the blonde boy had moved away with another girl and disappeared in the crowd. Yet now, she wasn't searching for him. There was a tranquil sense of resignation on her features... as if she'd accepted the fact that he was gone forever.

That she couldn't have a second glance at him.

In the fading sunlight, Nico almost wished he could fall for her, for that misery that so effortlessly equalized with his, which so ferociously rivalled his own.

An Elysium...

"Same as you, Di Angelo," with that slight up quirk of her lips, she'd portrayed a melancholy he couldn't bear to dwell upon.

"Don't worry. I won't tell."

Her smile hadn't wavered. "Don't worry. I won't, either."

And that had been the end of that.

He didn't expect to hear of it again, and he hadn't had to ever after that, too.

Forthrightly, Nico might never have found the notion of having an Elysium any closer to him. And why not, he had never done anything to deserve it. He might have warded off the Titan War, he might have made sure _he_'d get out of Tartarus alive, but apparently, these were still not good enough deeds.

He hadn't been a Hero.

Just like _he_ hadn't been one.

However, Nico decided one thing; if he had an Elysium, what, where or how wouldn't matter.

It'd be one without Percy Jackson.

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Author's Note:

Did this turn out a bit angsty?

Good grief, what is Sayloni upto these days...

Also, it's funny if you realize just how many literary ornaments she has used pertaining to the Ocean, and ultimately, to Percy himself, in the course of the story. It is justifiable though, that if Nico thinks so much about Percy that his life has been controlled with the guy's very verve (no, don't even try to deny it now that it is official), it is only natural that things that remind him of the Son of Poseidon would keep_ flooding_ into his mind.

There, you noticed that too?

No?

Well, never mind.

Also, Rachel. Frankly, not really a delectable persona in Sayloni's terminology. She thinks the Oracle would be seriously feeling the sense of loss after accepting her righteous place, no? Hazel, the only about female character Sayloni has liked after Reyna and Clarisse... she turned out strangely mature and insightful in there, eh? Also, Sayloni really feels bad for Reyna. Why can't she have a happy ending?

It is a fact that every character Sayloni likes ends up dead, heart-broken, or seriously traumatized.

Some way of life, eh?

Anyway, Sayloni knows Nico probably sounded seriously out of character, but let us have our facts straight; he only goes on a defensive mode if a) the other party is despicable to him, b) someone has said or done something offensive, or/and c)they'd simply done the terrible deed of being named as Percy Jackson.

Also, characters in books are a bit fuzzy, and you have to think all odds and ends before you write out a reaction to any of them, so Sayloni believes she'd tried doing as fine as a job possible here. It's not just 'Heroes of Olympus', but a consistency with any book you grab off the counter of a library or bookstore.

Like, don't know if it's just her, but she feels there's an unclear line between Jason and Percy's personalities, and that too only when Piper mentions that the former is a goody-two-shoes when it comes to laws and such. And Annabeth sounds such a scaredy cat if it is herself narrating the tale.

See? Don't you notice it too once it is voiced out?

Gods...

But she is still in love with all of them!

Okay, that sounded way more odd and hypocritical than Sayloni had originally intended...

Regardless, read the book and RR.

P.S. Sayloni is going to die until the conclusive book comes out next year.

P.P.S. Try not to follow her to Elysium (no pun intended).

P.P.P.S. Alright, may be. (~_~)/ Sayloni can't help it.


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